Mourning
by beenieweenie
Summary: Post Grave. Deals with Willow after she's taken to England by Giles. Kinda dark. All reviews accepted gratefully, even flames.


Disclaimer:  I own nothing.  I don't own Willow, or Tara, or Buffy, or anyone else on the show.  I'm too poor to even pretend I own them.  I also don't own "More Than a Feeling"; I think that Tom Scholz, the writer, of Boston owns it.  Now that that's over with, read and enjoy the story!  Also a note to all the English readers:  if I have the whole Devonshire thing as a city instead of a place, I'm really sorry.  I'm just an ignorant American; your English ways are foreign to me. 

Mourning

by Beenieweenie

            Willow sat on the small cot her room in Devonshire, more of a prison than a room really.  Wards, hexes, and spells had been built into the walls and they kept Willow from being able to use any of her magick at all.  There was a toilet in the far corner and a sink next to it.  There was no evident source of light and Willow had decided that a spell lit the room, same as a spell kept her from her magick.  Soon a member of the coven would come and they would "talk."

            Without her magick Willow had begun going through the mourning process like any other person might have.  A week after she'd arrived Buffy had sent a letter telling her about Tara's service and funeral.  Willow had become hysterical when she realized that she'd missed the last time she would ever get to see Tara.  She'd withdrawn and spoke to no one.

_I looked out this morning and the sun was gone   
Turned on some music to start my day  
I lost myself in a familiar song  
I closed my eyes and I slipped away_

            Somehow, in the second week of her incarceration Willow had gotten a piece of chalk and had taken to drawing on the walls of her room with it.  The most prominent drawing was on the wall at the head of her bed.  None of the members of the coven could figure out who the drawing was of and so they had Giles come in and look at it for himself.  Giles went into the room and tried to talk to Willow about the drawing, but she wouldn't meet his eyes and wouldn't talk to him either.  After some time Giles got up and left.  An old witch, the matriarch of the coven, was waiting for him when he stepped across the threshold.

            "Who is it that she draws?" the old woman inquired.

            Giles took off his glasses and began polishing them with his jacket.  He sighed sadly and replied, "That's Tara."

_It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)  
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)  
'till I see Marianne walk away  
I see my Marianne walkin' away_

            Willow was sitting on her bed when Buffy got to the cell.  She kept patting her drawing of Tara as she mumbled to herself.  As Buffy drew closer she realized that Willow was mumbling a rhyme that most young girls knew.

            "Ms. Ma-ry Mack, Mack, Mack.  All dressed in black, black, black," Willow chanted the words slowly and had no enthusiasm as she moved her hands to hit her drawing's hands.

            "Willow…" Buffy spoke softly.  When Willow made mo indication that she had heard Buffy, Buffy tried again, "Willow?"

            Willow stopped her rhyming and turned slowly until she was basically facing Buffy.  Buffy sat next to Willow on the cot.  She stared at her friend.  It looked like Willow hadn't bathed in weeks.  Her hair was dull and limp, and it hung around her face, a parody of what Tara's had been like when she first met Buffy and the other Scoobies.

            "Willow, who are you playing with?" Buffy was on the verge of crying when she asked Willow the question.

            "Tara," Willow's response was so quiet that Buffy almost didn't hear it.  But then Buffy burst realized what her friend had said and she burst into tears, as Willow gazed, unfocused, at the floor.

_So many people have come and gone  
Their faces fade as the years go by  
Yet I still recall as I wander on  
as clear as the sun in the summer sky_

            After Buffy's visit nothing changed.  Willow was still quiet and talked to no one but her drawings.  The coven was unsure of how to proceed and didn't understand what Willow needed.  She was given more chalk.  Slowly other people appeared on the walls.  Willow didn't speak to them or even pay much attention to them once she had drawn them.  Giles was called in multiple times to identify the numerous people.  It wasn't until about the fifth time that he'd come in that Giles actually broke down.  When he came out of the cell he there were evidence of tears on his cheeks but he said nothing of them and neither did the matriarch.

            "Who is it now?" the matriarch questioned softly as the two of them walked down the hall.

            "The female is Jenny," Giles bit his lip, "The males are Wesley and I."

            "We had guessed that you were one of them," the matriarch confirmed.  Then she stopped and turned to Giles, "What is the significance of all of these people?"

            "They're the Scoobies," Giles said.  At the matriarch's puzzled look he continued, "Buffy has always had friends who have helped her.  The Scoobies are a nick-name that they've used to refer to themselves.  The only people missing are Dawn, Spike and Willow herself."

_It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)  
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)  
'till I see Marianne walk away  
I see my Marianne walkin' away_

            "Why are you here?" Tara asked.

            "Where else should I be?" Willow countered.

            "With the people that love you," Tara promptly answered.

            "You love me!" Willow stated belligerently.

            "I do, but your place is with the living." 

            "I can't, they all hate me."

            "Why?"

            "They just do."

            "Willow, they don't.  They're worried about you.  And they love you, too.  Go back to them."

            "But what about you?"

            "I'm fine.  You don't need to worry about me."

            "I'll miss you though."

            "Yes, but you can't just give up because I'm not there."

            "What will I do?  Who will I be without you?  I'll be alone."

            "You'll be Willow.  You'll be talented and smart.  You'll be with friends and you'll find new love."

            "I would never replace you Tara."

            "You wouldn't be replacing me.  You can always love me, but it would be selfish for me to take all of the love you have.  Go and give to others."

            "I don't know if I can…"

            "You don't know that you can't."

_When I'm tired and thinking cold  
I hide in my music, forget the day  
and dream of a girl I used to know  
I closed my eyes and she slipped away  
She slipped away. She slipped away. _

            It was early August when the thirteenth figure appeared on the walls of Willow's cell.  It was a female and was very angry looking.  Unlike all the other figures, this one was filled with emotion and was ugly and terrible.  After she'd finished it Willow had flushed her chalk down the toilet.

            The matriarch shuffled into the cell, leaning heavily on her cane.  Willow was on the bed, staring at her drawing of Tara.  Her eyes were still dull, but they held more life than they had in ages.  At a signal from the matriarch, a young witch brought in a stool and left.  The matriarch sat on the stool and watched Willow.

            "Who's that?" the matriarch eventually asked.  Her questioned seemed to break the silence in the most horrible way.  Willow acted like she hadn't heard.

            "Who's that?" the matriarch repeated, this time motioning to the drawing of Tara.

            "Tara," Willow said as quietly as she had said to Buffy.

            "I see," the matriarch nodded and knew that bottom had finally been hit and there was no place to go but up.  Then she motioned to the wall with the Scoobies on it, "Who are these people?"

            "Those are the Scoobies," Willow replied, only marginally louder than before.

            "Are they your friends?" the matriarch questioned.

            "Yes…" Willow's answer was almost silent.  Her head was hanging and her face was obscured by her dull red hair.

            "Who's on the far wall?" the matriarch asked motioning to the violent and angry drawing across the room.

            Willow answered, but was so quiet that not even she heard herself.

            "Who?" the matriarch questioned, as she leaned in closer to show that she hadn't heard.

            "That's me," Willow's voiced quivered as she answered.  She looked up at the picture across the room and repeated, "That's me."

            The matriarch got up and walked to the bed and sat next to Willow.  She looked at the broken young girl next to her before going on.

            "Why are you so angry?"

            "Because I'm black inside!  I feel nothing!  I'm empty!" Willow cried out.  Then she burst into tears and clung to the matriarch as she bawled.

            The matriarch stroked Willow's hair as the girl sobbed and softly said, "That's not you.  That's what you were.  Why don't you be who you were before Tara was taken?"

            "I don't know if I can…"

            "You don't know that you can't."

_It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)  
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)  
'till I see Marianne walk away  
I see my Marianne walkin' away_


End file.
